Dreams, Regrets and Hope
by Wildjinx
Summary: Jack and Kate battle their inner demons
1. Strength and the Ocean

"Strength and the Ocean"

Kate was strong. She was independent, and knew never to rely on anyone else. And right now, she hated that with a passion. She stood on the beach with her arms crossed high on her chest and stared sightlessly at the water. She'd been on her own for so long, it was all she knew now. Even when she'd been in relationships or had her family, she had always held herself a little apart; keeping some integral piece of herself locked away. She convinced herself that it was better that way; the less people knew you, the less ammo they had against you. She'd learned her lesson at a painfully young age and had shaken hands with betrayal and abandonment so often, they were now her emotional neighbours.

And now, here she stood on this god-forsaken island, waiting for rescue only because it was something to do, not because she really thought it would come. She spent her days hauling wood and water, and her nights brooding, with only her past mistakes to keep her company in the dark. She had spent the last part of her life running; slinking from place to place, never staying long enough to be tracked. At least it was easier to avoid entanglements, she would remind herself. But in truth, she knew she was running from herself and her past. It's not that she regretted her past actions. Her life had happened and there was no going back. It was more that she was haunted by the life she wished she'd had, and it was those broken dreams that kept her running, perhaps even more than the law; trying to stay one step ahead of the life that taunted her … the life that she could never have.

It was a cruel twist of fate that now prevented her from running, physically at least. When the plane broke up, her wings had been clipped just as brutally as the plane's. Part of her, the cowardly part, wished she hadn't survived; that her running could finally have been ended. But her instinct for survival slapped that little voice back, and condemned her for bemoaning her fate when so many others had died.

The wind tugged a curl loose from her braid and sent it whispering across her face. Tucking the lock behind her ear, she pondered her new existence here. Life had finally settled into a routine, something she had very little experience with. Off in the distance, she heard the sound of bartering, and knew Sawyer was likely involved. Sawyer, she thought with a shake of her head, was a puzzle. She had never met anyone who spent so much time and energy on getting people to hate him. He said they had a connection and as much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was right. And oh, how she resented that fact. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure emerge from a makeshift shelter. Glancing over, she saw it was Jack, his pack slung across his back like a college student, checking on the welfare of the beach dwellers. Turning her gaze back to the undulating sea, she pondered the role these two men were playing in her life here.

Sawyer's interest in her was blatant, especially in the way he tried to flaunt his flirtation with her in front of Jack. And with Sawyer, it was easy to flirt back. She knew not to take his sexual innuendos as anything more than overtures for a tumble in the woods, only partially hidden behind a grafter's charm. Like her, he was used to keeping himself hidden from anyone, avoiding permanence like a cat does water. And that was the truth of their "connection". In him, she saw her own reflection; a sordid past shaped from childhood trauma. It would be so easy to fall into old habits, to just let herself sink back into her tendencies and not aspire to a better life … a better Kate. Sawyer would never judge her for her past or expect her to rise above her present situation. There would be no chocolates and roses in any relationship they'd have, but neither would there be the chance of getting hurt. As ironic as it was, Sawyer, for all his criminal past, was the safe choice. The choice that wouldn't challenge her to make her dreams come true.

She looked down at the waves lapping over her bare toes, momentarily mesmerized by the grains of sand that were gently pulled away from between her toes and scattered out to sea. Jack was like those waves, she realized with a start. Without her being aware of it, he had managed to pull away some of her barriers with the same gentleness and warmth as the water, scattering fragments of her shield like flower petals over the ocean. And the thing was, he wasn't even trying to. It was nothing he did, but just simply the way he was. Acknowledging her past but not letting her hide behind it. And that scared her. With Jack, she saw something in herself; potential and a life story not yet written, a destiny she could still control. It wasn't just that he reminded her of the dreams she knew would never come true. With just a glance and the flicker of a smile, he made her think that those dreams could still come true.

And so, she went to neither. Instead of taking the comfort she knew each would offer her, she stood alone on the shore, her arms wrapped around herself in comfort. With a sad smile, she acknowledged her self-punishment. She didn't feel that she deserved Jack's support and the hope he offered her, but nor did she feel Sawyer deserved to have his past held as an excuse to use him.

Yes, Kate was strong. But for the first time, she wished that she wasn't. She wished she could drop her guard and not be so alone. She longed to feel someone else's arms comfort her, even just for little bit. But in truth, she just didn't know how to trust; how to trust others … how to trust herself. Jack had said that they all deserved to start over, and maybe one day, she would feel that that applied to her as well. Chewing her lip thoughtfully, she hoped that day would come soon.


	2. Hands of a Stranger

He sat in front of the fire with his arms resting on his bent knees, staring at his hands. They were hands he didn't recognize anymore. Hands that were supposed to heal the sick, but had instead been used to smother a man to death. Hands that had signed the death warrant on his father's career and ultimately led to his death. Hands that did nothing to stop the torture of another human. It didn't matter that the man had been dying an agonizing death and was begging to be euthanised. Nor did it matter that he'd probably saved the lives of future patients by turning his father in. And the fact that he was desperate to get a girl's medication did nothing to ease his guilt over the torture. No, his guilt would not allow him to see any of that. He'd told Kate that they all deserved to start over, to start fresh. But his start was anything but fresh.

He raked his fingers over his closely cropped hair and pressed the heels of his hands into his forehead, trying to stop the dull ache that had plagued him for weeks. Sighing, he looked with envy at the peacefully sleeping figures scattered throughout the caves. He was the only one awake … as always, unable to sleep, to find any comforting rest. He closed his eyes and hung his head, allowing himself to momentarily succumb to the sheer despair that was always with him … threatening to swallow him whole.

Someone coughed in their sleep, pulling him back from his desolate thoughts. He shook his head as if to shake off the darkness; mentally chastising himself for his self pity. These people were depending on him, God help them all. He stood up and tossed another log on the fire, wincing at the sudden flare of light. Moving quietly, he filled a bottle with water from the spring and pressed it against the back of his neck, hoping the cool pressure would ease the throbbing in his skull.

Even though he knew it would be futile, he went back to his "bed" and lay down, hoping for even just a few minutes sleep. He fondly remembered his med school days, when he could snatch a few hours of sleep on the lumpy couch in the hospital's staff lounge, despite the constant noise and commotion around him. And yet here, where there were no distractions, he was unable to get any real sleep. His brain just continued to run in circles; worrying about Claire and her baby, about Charlie and his withdrawal, about how Kate was faring down at the beach. He wished she'd moved up here … they, he corrected himself. He wished they had moved up here. Didn't she - they realize how much safer it was here?

He draped his arm across his eyes and thought about Kate. He couldn't for the life of him figure her out. Just when he thought he was getting to know her, she would pull back. He supposed that that came with the territory, when you lived the life she had in recent years. He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the thought of her as a criminal … as a murderer. It wasn't that he didn't think she was strong enough; she proven herself stronger than many of the men here. It was more that she just didn't seem the type. He snorted at his naivety; who was he to judge if a person was a criminal? He sure wasn't a good judge of his father, that's for sure. His father's lies still hurt him … the sting of emotional betrayal sharp and deep. Maybe that's why he felt so guilty about his role in his father's death, he reflected. While he never would have wished his father dead, he had been sick with anger when he realized how skilfully his father had played him. And his anger and guilt never had a chance to be resolved, his father dying before Jack could come to terms.

Dragging his mind back from the unpleasant memories, he called up the image of chestnut curls and pensive eyes. He knew now, why he had reacted to Kate's lies about the marshal's case … it had reminded him of his father's manipulations. So with a conscious effort, he separated Kate's actions from his father's. Of course she had secrets and a past she didn't want to discuss. Didn't he as well? Didn't they all? He idly wondered what she would think if she knew what he'd almost done … what he'd tried to do. Would she consider him weak for wanting to give in and end the empty pit that had become his life? Or would she understand and offer him compassion? He'd never met anyone like her. She wasn't the most beautiful woman he'd ever known, but she had something inside her … an inner glow that transformed her pretty features into a living work of art and would leave him breathless and tongue tied. He sighed deeply. He was stranded on this Godforsaken island, dodging boars and who knew what else, with a community of survivors looking to him for direction, and yet his thoughts still drifted back to her. He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame … and he knew that if he wasn't careful, he'd get burned to a crisp. And Sawyer would be right there to rub his nose in it.

As if he didn't have enough to worry about, he snorted. Sawyer seemed to make it his life's work to cause trouble. If he wasn't in the middle of a mess, he was there on the sidelines, adding gasoline to the fire. And yet Kate, for some reason, seemed willing to tolerate his company. Was it her ability to see the goodness in even the most flawed soul, or was it something more. He grimaced at the thought of her having an attraction to Sawyer. He convinced himself that it was concern for her safety and not jealously that made his gut twist. But he knew, deep down, that she could take care of herself, no matter what the scheming Southerner tried, so his concerns were foolish. Jack laid no claim on Kate, but he couldn't deny feeling that despite her past, she deserved somebody better than Sawyer. Not that he felt he was that great a catch anymore. No, Kate deserved better than him; better than the man he'd become since that day in the hospital meeting room. Maybe before, when he still had dreams and a future, but not now. Not this hollowed out shell that once was a decent human being.

He heard the sounds of people stirring and sighed. Realizing that another sleepless night had passed, he braced himself for another trying day.


	3. A Hero Stumbles

"A Hero Stumbles"

He would later reflect that it was a surprisingly ordinary event that kick started the change in their relationship ... shifting it from a simple friendship to something ….. more.

Jack was trudging back to the caves, having delivered a load of water to the beach, and was lost in thought. With his forehead unconsciously creased, he was reviewing everything he could remember about delivering a child. Not that it was going to be like anything he'd done during his residency, he snorted. There had been no "wilderness maternity" rotation. So now, whenever his jittery thoughts skipped onto the topic of Claire's impending labour, he was inundated with "what ifs"; What if the baby comes early and can't survive without an incubator? What if the baby is turned and ends up being a breach birth? What if Claire haemorrhages? What if she doesn't dilate enough or needs a caesarean? Like angry bees, the worries buzzed around his brain while he tried with all his might to not just start screaming like a madman. Some days, he felt as though his father was exacting revenge; flinging him into the very situation and role he claimed Jack was incapable of handling. The nightmare for Jack wasn't the plane crash ... it was what came after. Feeling himself to be a complete impostor, he was forced into being the "level headed" leader. If only they knew, he sighed.

He was so caught up in his worries that he didn't see the backpack until it was too late. Catching his foot in one of the straps, he tripped and fell hard to the ground. He tried to stop himself with his hands, but the ground was too muddy and he landed with a thud. He pushed himself up, cursing, "Damn it! What the hell was " ..

He was interrupted by a startled exclamation from above, followed immediately by the sound of crashing branches. He looked up just in time to see a flash of chestnut hair and orange cotton as Kate slid down the tree, landed with a muffled "umpf" and stumbled into him.

"Hey!" he said, reaching out to steady her. "Are you trying to get us both killed?" he said with exasperation, certain she'd just taken 10 years off of his still racing heart.

Kate, her face flushed from her recent exertion, quirked her lips up into a wry smile. "Well, I'm not the one clumping through the woods and causing a ruckus," she pointed out.

"No. You're just the one leaving things lying around to be tripped over," he shot back, unable to muster enough energy to even attempt a teasing reply.

Frowning at his aloof behaviour, she swiped at some of the palm bark clinging to the front of her orange t-shirt. "Yes, well, it wasn't exactly hidden, Jack. I don't know what you're upset about. I'm the one that got injured," she said looking more closely at her hand. "I lost my grip on the tree when you decided to storm through, and ripped my blister open."

Instantly contrite, Jack reached for her hand. Fabulous, he thought to himself. As if you don't already have enough to deal with, now your recruiting injured people. Damn fool … if I'd just been paying attention to where I was going ….

"Let me look at that." he examined the wound and sighed. "Sorry, Kate. We better get this cleaned out and bandaged." Letting her hand go, he took off his backpack. He rummaged around in it for a second and pulled out a little travel sized bottle of shampoo he had filled with peroxide, and a few Band-Aids. He gently tugged her over to a large rock and sat her down.

"Pert plus? Shampoo is now a first aid item?" she asked sceptically.

"Kate, " he said impatiently. "it's peroxide. I filled it with peroxide so I didn't have to lug the whole bottle around with me."

She could see the tension in his neck as he dribbled water on her hand to rinse away most of the dirt, then uncapped the shampoo bottle. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well lately, but now she began to wonder if he slept at all. "Jack, it's fine. Save the peroxide for a real injury, " she said, pulling her hand away.

Without looking up, Jack caught her wrist and held it firmly so he could pour the peroxide on her hand. "Hold still … this will sting a bit, but only for a second," he said and flooded the wound with the disinfectant.

She inhaled sharply as the peroxide bubbled and stung her torn flesh. "Jack? Didn't you hear what I said? I said I'm fine… it's just a scrape."

"Kate." he said tersely. "Would you just let me do my job? It needs to be cleaned. There is no such thing as 'just a scrape' out here." Pulling out a large band aid, he continued, his voice rising. " A scrape leads to infection and without the proper antibiotics, that infection spreads to the blood. Once that happens, your hand is as good as gone. I may have taunted Sawyer about needing his arm amputated, but I'd really rather not have to actually go through with it on someone … not here without the right tools," With jerky movements he shoved the bottle back into his bag, and roughly pulled the bag closed. Looking up at her, he levelled her with his bloodshot eyes, his voice rising nearly to a shout. "Not here on you. If that torn blister gets infected, if you're lucky, you are just looking at a raging fever and gangrene. Is that what you want, Kate? Is it! So just let me do my God damned job, will you!"

"Jack …" Kate said reaching out to touch his shoulder, at a loss for words. She had never seen him wound this tightly before. She was shocked by his outburst; looking at his face, it was like he wasn't even really seeing _her_.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he got a grip on himself. Oh God, he thought to himself, what is wrong with me! He jerked away from her touch, horrified by his own behaviour. He closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head as if in denial. He raised his head and looked at her with haunted eyes. Jack opened his mouth to speak … to apologize, but nothing would come out. He stumbled back a few steps, then turned and ran blindly into the jungle; trying to escape what happened … trying to escape himself.

"Jack? Jack!" Kate called after him. She had been in a plane crash, and chased by some mysterious creature, but never had she been more scared than she was right now. It wasn't the stress she saw in Jack's face that worried her … that she could understand. It was the haunted, gut-wrenching anguish she saw in his eyes that shook her to her very core.

Grabbing her bag, she raced off after him.


	4. Standing on the edge

"Standing on the Edge"

Jack wasn't aware of how long he'd been running, or even in what direction for that matter. He wasn't aware of the tree branches slapping his face, or the thorny brambles that tugged at his clothes like hungry children. All he felt was the panic and horror of knowing that he was teetering on the edge of control. He ran, slipping and sliding across patches of mud, and tripping over tree roots. He ran until he was sure his lungs would explode, trying desperately to get away. To get away from what, he didn't know. His outburst at Kate? His parent's disappointment? Or simply himself? Gasping for breath, he came to a stumbling halt, his limbs spent from exertion, but his mind still racing like rabid dog. Wiping the sweat from his face with the hem of his t-shirt, he staggered forward and saw that the ground in front of him fell away sharply. He peered over the edge and in the late afternoon light, saw a stream at the bottom of the chasm, snaking its way along the rocky valley. Wheezing, he bent at the waist and braced his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

He heard the sound of branches snapping behind him and didn't care that he was alone and unarmed. If the mysteries of the jungle were here to claim him, then so be it. Maybe then he could find some peace. His only regret was that his last words to Kate had been thrown at her in anger.

"Jack?" He heard Kate say softly … evenly. For a moment he wondered if it was simply another hallucination, like his father.

Kate's relief at having caught up to him turned to panic when she took in his surroundings. Kate was certain her heart had stopped when she saw Jack standing there and realized he was on the edge of a cliff. He wouldn't jump, would he? she thought frantically . But since she'd never seen him so undone before, she didn't really know what to expect.

"Jack?" she repeated. "I don't know how stable that ground is there … you should probably step back."

He could hear the tension in her voice; the strain of trying to keep her confusion and panic silent, readily apparent. Without looking back at her, he straightened up and let his breath out in a self mocking huff.

"Relax, Kate. I'm not going to jump."

"Then why don't you come over here and talk to me? What's going on, Jack?"

When he finally turned to face her, she was again startled by how bad he looked. His face was ashen, making the scratches on his face stand out in stark contrast. He had a cut over his left eye that was bleeding slightly and dark circles under his eyes. He walked away from the edge, but skirted the clearing, keeping his distance from her.

"What are you doing here, Kate?" he asked tiredly.

"Jack, what's wrong? What happened back there?" she asked, finally able to breath now that he wasn't on the lip of the cliff. She didn't move other than to follow him with her eyes, instinctively sensing that he might bolt if she tried to approach him.

"Nothing. I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. I'm fine." His voice held no inflection, sounding lifeless to her ears.

"Why did you take off like that?" she asked, not willing to let the matter drop. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ward off the chill she felt at the hollowness in his voice.

Dropping down onto a fallen log, he couldn't quite meet her eyes. "I wanted to be alone. I'm fine. Just …. you should go back to camp, Kate. I'm not about to do anything stupid."

She watched his body language and saw how he was shutting her out again; pushing away her concerns … pushing away her help. She turned and began to walk away, to give him the space he thought he wanted. But her mind kept replaying the look on his face and how it looked like his very soul was atrophying . She remembered how her neighbour's dog had acted when it had been hit by a car. She had only been 7 at the time, but she could still remember how it had growled and tried to bite the people who were attempting to help it. The know-it-all-girl from across the street said it was because it was hurt and was trying to protect itself. She didn't know why Jack was in pain, but she figured she knew why he was pushing her away.

She retraced her steps and came up behind him. Dropping her bag at her feet, she sat down on the log next to him. She felt him tense, and his body go rigid as soon as she sat down. She didn't know what to say, but somehow, that just didn't matter. So she sat quietly next to him and stared at the scraggly grass at her feet.

He braced himself for a lecture but when none was forthcoming, he began to relax his guard. Instead of plying him with questions, she sat silently next to him. When the sky began to darken, she slid off the log and pushed together the dead branches that were strewn across the clearing. She fished a lighter our of her bag and started the fire. Kate brushed the dirt from her hands , returned to the log, and sat down next to Jack, close enough that their shoulders touched and their knees brushed against each other.

She stared at the small fire and quietly said, "Whatever this is, you don't have to go it alone. I'm here if you need me, Jack."

The crackling of the fire seemed thunderously loud in the silence that followed. She wondered if he'd even heard her. And if he would ever let her in to help. She was watching the flames dance as the fire grew when she suddenly felt him sigh and lean against her. He didn't say a word, and neither did she. She just continued to offer him the support that he finally seemed willing to accept. She gently leaned against him in return, silently letting him know she understood the gesture.


	5. Caging the Beasts

"Caging the Beasts"

Once full dark had settled in, the fire had started to die down and Kate had gotten up to add more wood to the flames. Jack had been immediately aware of her absence, and surprised by just how much he missed the warmth from her body. He'd slid off the log and sat on the ground, trying to get closer to the little fire. Leaning back against the log, he'd stared into the flames as Kate came back and sat down next to him. Neither of them had spoken since she offered her support, but at least the silence was a companionable one.

Now, hours later, he admitted that he wouldn't have known what to say. Even if he could have allowed himself to confide in her, he'd never been any good at talking about his problems. 'Opening up' had never been encouraged in his family … no, his family preferred the time honoured tradition of keeping your feelings locked up tight in a box and hidden away in the back of your mental closet. The therapist he had gone to hadn't been much help either; maybe it was because as a doctor he wasn't comfortable being a 'patient', or maybe the emotionless "hmmm", "ah-ha" and "how do you feel about that" clichés had put him off. In either case, he always felt worse and somehow cheated afterwards.

At some point during the night, Kate had fallen asleep and had her head resting on his shoulder. He felt a tiny smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he listened to her soft kitten like snores. There was an intimacy in knowing that about someone; glimpsing something so ordinary and private. Her neck was cocked at an awkward angle, though, and he knew she'd be stiff in the morning.

"Kate," he whispered, nudging her gently. She made a little noise of protest in her sleep, and snuggled closer on his shoulder. He didn't have the heart to wake her, so he gently eased her down so that her head was resting on his lap. Her hair had fallen across her face and a curl was caught in the seam of her lips. He softly brushed it back and grinned as she scrunched her face up at the ticklish sensation, slipping into an even deeper sleep.

At least someone was able to rest, he mused. He admired the work Kate did and as much as he wished that she'd moved up to the caves, he did feel better knowing that she was there to keep an eye on the beach camp. But he worried that she wasn't taking care of herself. He could see that she'd lost weight; weight she could ill afford to lose. While they were getting better at catching fish, there still wasn't much to go around and Sayid had mentioned that Kate often gave up her share for the others. She wasn't getting enough protein, he thought to himself. With all the work she did and the energy she used carrying water back to the beach, she needed more. He considered pressuring Locke to get more boar, but he didn't even know if she'd eat it. Besides, Locke was just one man and it wasn't fair to him to expect him to feed over 40 people.

He tipped his head back against the log and stared up at the night sky. He watched the dark silhouettes of clouds drift past the sliver of moon, but was too consumed with the worries of survival, to really even see them.

_(later)_

She came awake in stages. She had heard an odd popping noise, but was reluctant to give up her warm, comfy pillow. Deciding the noise was just the sound of a shifting log, she burrowed back into her pillow, sliding a hand underneath the soft denim. Denim? She thought with confusion. That wasn't right … her pillow was a wadded up nylon jacket she'd found in the wreckage. She tried to clear her sluggish mind and opened her eyes. Squinting in the dim glow of the dying fire she saw legs. Blinking in bewilderment she turned her head and saw a man's profile. Jack. She had fallen asleep with her head on Jack's lap?

"Jack?" she whispered.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't immediately hear her..

"Jack?" she said again, louder.

Coming back to reality, Jack looked down at the sound of his name being called, feeling a bit like a school boy caught daydreaming in class. He saw Kate blinking owlishly at him, the glowing embers of the fire bathing her face in a rosy glow.

"Go back to sleep, Kate. There's still a few hours before daylight." he said softly.

She nodded, still half asleep, at his assessment. "Why aren't you asleep?" she mumbled groggily, the thought of moving her head never even entering her mind.

He unconsciously smoothed a strand of hair out of her eyes and gave a small, wistful smile. "I don't sleep much anymore. It's easier not to."

She wanted to ask him why, but she couldn't keep her eyes open as she felt sleep coaxing her back. She started to form the words, but was asleep before she could ever utter them.

He had seen the question forming in her mind: 'Why'. He didn't really know the answer to that. Was he trying to avoid waking up? He knew the mornings were always the worst for him. He would lay there, feeling crushed by the trials he knew each day would bring. The expectations people had of him made him feel like an Atlas impostor, straining under the weight of the world, and he didn't know if he had much more strength left in him.

His father was right. He didn't have what it takes to make decisions. He couldn't distance himself from them; he took everything to heart. And his heart, his very soul was failing him, the same as an alcoholic's liver. The bad parts stuck to him, poisoning him, clogging his emotional arteries.

His dreams were plagued by restless thoughts and endless worries, leaving him more exhausted than before. So he tried not to sleep; tried to put off the mornings. As a doctor, he knew he was only making things worse for himself. As Jack, he just didn't care anymore. He was so very tired; tired of fighting, tired of struggling to survive, tired of living.

But, as he watched Kate sleep, he felt some measure of peace, as though he had inched back from the edge of his emotional ledge. Whether it was the warmth seeping from her body into his, or the soothing sound of her breathing, he felt himself calming down; the beasts that prowled his thoughts, once again caged. But for how long, he wondered.


	6. Still Waters

Still Waters

Morning came as it always did , with its promises of a fresh start cloaking the dangers that lay ahead, like leaves camouflaging a hole in the ground. Jack was dimly aware of the colours ebbing into the dawn sky and the restless tittering of birds somewhere up in the trees, but didn't really pay much attention to them. He was in a state of limbo, straddling the chasm between optimism and pessimism and felt strangely detached from his body. He hadn't slept again; oh maybe he had nodded off for a few moments, but nothing substantial. His mind wouldn't turn off long enough for that. If he wasn't trying prepare himself for the perils of the post-crash life they found themselves in, he seemed to be caught up in memories of the past. His mind playing over his relationship with his family like some twisted version of home movie night.

But this time, while he may not have slept, he did feel some measure of rest. As though only part of him had been subjected to the turmoil. He glanced down at the sleeping figure in his lap. Kate. She had shifted during the night, curling her body into a fetal position; her head snuggled in his lap, and her knees drawn up to her chest with her hands tucked under his legs, like a child would tuck her hands under a pillow. His legs had long since fallen asleep under her slight weight, but in truth, he didn't mind, because he knew that it was likely her presence that had kept part of him grounded in the present, and not haunted by the past or trapped by the future.

As if aware of his gaze, Kate started to stir reluctantly. She breathed deeply and squirmed onto her back, stretching the muscles in her legs. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well, certainly not for months, at least. As memories of the night, and the day before, trickled back into her brain, she opened her eyes abruptly. Blinking the sleep out her eyes she found herself looking into Jack's face. She scrambled out of his lap, and flushed a bit at the intimacy of their sleeping arrangements.

"Um. Good Morning?" she said, suddenly at a loss for what to say.

Jack looked at her with calm eyes and gave her a small smile; just a slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. "Morning," he replied. "Did anyone ever tell you that you snore?" he teased lightly to break the ice.

Kate snorted and shot him a mild scowl. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're not supposed to tell a girl that?" she retorted.

He looked down at the ground briefly and gave a little chuckle as he looked back at her. "Guess not." He nodded in the direction of his bag, "I think there's some water in there if you're thirsty," he offered. "Sleep okay?" he asked casually as she rummaged in his bag.

"Yes, actually I did." She took a swig of the lukewarm water and handed the bottle over to him, looking at him intently. "But you didn't , did you.?"

He took the bottle from her and pushed himself up to his feet, wincing at the 'pins and needles' sensation in his cramped legs. Not quite able to meet her eyes, he drank some of the water, and replied "I'm okay." He scuffled his feet in the ashes of the campfire, scattering them to make sure the embers were all out. "We should head back to the others, I'm sure they are wondering where you went."

He bent down to retrieve his pack but froze when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Jack." Kate said quietly. "Don't."

He straightened, holding his bag in front of him like a shield. "Don't what?" he asked, pretending ignorance, but dreading where this conversation appeared to be headed.

She watched the shutters come down as he prepared to keep out the outside world at a distance, herself included. She sighed with frustration, but was determined to keep her door open at least. Looking him square in the eye, she said, "Don't try and pretend like your not human, Jack. You're not some superhero that doesn't need rest."

"Is that what you think? That I think I'm some superhero, Kate?" he asked quietly. "Trust me, you couldn't be further from the truth," he said with a sad chuckle.

"Yes… No... I don't know what you think, Jack. But I think you forget that you're only human and that you can't fix everything." She gentled her voice and sat down on the log. "I don't know what happened yesterday, but like I said, you don't have to go it alone. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. I'm worried about you, we all are. You're running yourself ragged and are going to give yourself a nervous breakdown if you don't slow down. You're not eating properly, even I can tell that. And when was the last time you slept, Jack? Really slept?" She held her breath, hoping she hadn't pushed him too far, but her concern fueled her actions.

Jack stared sightlessly at a spot just over her shoulder, unable, or unwilling, to look her in the eye. He started to deny it, to mutter the same old platitudes, but he knew she wouldn't let him get away with it this time. He, who was always insisting on honesty, owed her at least that.

"I get enough rest to keep going. No I haven't been sleeping lately. Not since before the crash really, maybe even longer. But there is nothing I can do about it here, is there? I don't imagine anyone here is getting enough sleep, but we all just have to cope with it."

"But the others aren't trying to keep everything going . You're trying to sail the ship through a hurricane all by yourself, and I think it's slowly killing you, Jack. You're going to end up killing yourself, you know." she said, her calm voice laced with concern.

At her last comment, he darted her a quick look, her words hitting too close to the truth. He gave a nervous laugh "I'm not going to kill myself, Kate. If I didn't before, I doubt I will now. I'm a doctor, remember? I'm used to a lot of stress and little sleep."

She frowned at his words, unsure if there was a deeper meaning to them. Jack resisted the urge to squirm under her probing gaze; there was no way she knew, was there? He had locked that part of him up and long since thrown away the key. There's no way he'd ever let that part out again because deep down, he just didn't know if he'd ever be able to push it back again. No, there were too many other things here that needed his attention and energy, and Jack Shephard just wasn't high on that list.

Kate watched the way he turned in on himself, as if trying to keep her out, or maybe keep something in. She noted the wariness in his eyes, the purposely blank facial expression, marred only by the slight tensing of his jaw muscles. She could see that he was trying to brush her concerns off, and suddenly wondered just how often he had done that. She pursed her mouth and looked down at the ground for a moment, thinking. She looked up at him, with her chin up and head cocked to the side and caught a glimpse of something she'd never seen or even suspected in Jack.

Vulnerability.

It wasn't any crack in his demeanour, or even a momentary lapse in the self-assured image he projected, that tipped her off. No, she thought, it was there in his ruthlessly held self-control, as if he was fighting to keep himself sane, even if it meant trying to smother his self perceived weaknesses. Like a formidable wall trying to deter an attack on an already damaged building, his 'in control' exterior was struggling to hide an interior that was beginning to crumble. Effective camouflage, she knew from her own experience, but never stable in the long run. Without inner support, the wall would eventually collapse. And God knows the incredible stress that's been hammering on that wall since the crash, she thought; no wonder he blown up at her yesterday. And somewhere inside her, she felt a tug; an invisible catch in her breath as she saw Jack … really saw him. Kate saw not the idealized image of the competent surgeon, the capable leader, or even a man with probably some perfect life before the crash. She glimpsed the man within, the one that was as lost with himself, as they all were on this damn island. It was only a fleeting epiphany, but it opened her eyes to the existence of the flawed human that was kept hidden beneath a mask of self confidence, buried under self imposed responsibilities and expectations. As her mother would have said, "Still waters run deep".

The silence in the clearing was deafening, broken only by the sound of Jack, couched on the ground, yanking his bag closed; his actions abrupt and rough with emotions he wouldn't let surface.

"Jack," she said quietly as she stood up. He paused in his assault of the bag , and partially looked up at her. Before she realized what she was doing , she had lifted her hand to his cheek in an age old gesture of comfort. She saw him flinch and go completely still at her touch. He meet her gaze with his own and instantly regretted it. He swallowed tightly and tried to look away, feeling entirely too exposed; afraid of what those pensive green eyes might see. It seemed like his entire awareness was focused on the sensation of her warm hand on his skin.

She saw the myriad of emotions flit across his eyes, and wondered how she had ever failed to see the complexity that was Jack Shephard. She broke their gaze and let her hand fall away, instinctively knowing that he didn't want her to see that part of him; to see beneath that mask.

"You should clean those cuts on your face, Jack," she said, as if that had been the real reason for her touch. "Somebody warned me not to take the possibility of infection too lightly here," she chided, relieved to see him relax once again.

Jack huffed out a rueful chuckle. "Yes, nurse," he teased, matching her light tone. The humour fading from his tone, Jack stared at his hands and began "Kate, about yesterday ", but she cut him off with a shake of her head .

"It's okay Jack, we all have those days," she said as she bent down to tie her shoelace. Trying to keep her voice neutral, she continued casually, "Just remember … you don't have to be perfect around me. I'm not exactly in a position to judge anyone."

When she heard no response, she turned her head to look at him and found him staring at the water bottle in his hands. He looked up at her, met her gaze and slowly nodded his head. He didn't say anything, just looked back at the bottle and nodded again, before returning to look at her and give one last solemn nod, with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Kate let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. As she felt another little piece of her armour fall away, she realized that something had changed between them; shifted somehow. It was like two pieces of a puzzle suddenly fitting together. The puzzle was far from finished, and heaven only knew what it would look like when completed, but still, it was connection. One that she felt being made in her soul.

And somewhere deep inside, so deep she wasn't even fully aware of it, the part of her she thought long since abandoned, smiled softly.


	7. Mistaken Assumptions

"Mistaken Assumptions"

Sawyer's feet itched and it wasn't from any rash. He was going stir crazy and his feet were just fidgeting to be somewhere - anywhere - else. He was not a man accustomed to staying in one place for so long and this stranding on Hell's Acre Island was not improving his desire to start now. The first few days were tolerable, especially in light of the fact that it meant he wasn't one of the poor stiffs that had died. But as soon as the excitement and relief had worn off, he was left feeling trapped - something he despised feeling.

In the beginning, he could pass the day idly wisecracking on the others, especially that firecracker Kate, but people seemed to be getting immune to him now. Hell, he couldn't even get a rise out of Freckles anymore. She'd just give him that look that mothers must surly pass on to their daughters in some secretive, sadistic charm school. And son of a bitch, if it just didn't take the fun out of it when she gave him that little "knock it off" frown of hers. Trouble was, he figured she was just too similar to him to fall for his crap. And that just plain took all the joy out of it. Although, he mused, the kiss had been a hot little perk. Not that he'd repeat the torture and the experience of being stuck like a pig in the arm to do it all over again, mind you. But at least it had been a little bit of spice. He wouldn't have minded pursuing that frisky little path; she was a fiery little package with a mouth like sinful honey, after all. But he could see that she was looking at Doc Wonderful up in Cavetown, and this Southerner was never one to go begging after someone else's crumbs. The whole damned island could see there was something between those two, and Jackass would too, if he'd stop trying to fix everything here.

His lips pulled back in a feral smile, causing those deceptively choir boy-looking dimples to wink out. Ah yes, Dr. Jack, he thought to himself. At least he could always count on him for entertainment. Didn't take much poking to get a rise out of him either. Damn boy was one of the only sources of amusement left to him. He couldn't tell which he enjoyed more; ribbing Florence Nightingale directly, or tweaking him about Freckles. He didn't consider it in the least bit mean spirited. In fact, he felt it was for the doc's own good. Sure he'd been pissed at their little field trip of pain, but it was more Omar that had cheesed him, what with those friggin' bamboo toothpicks and shiny little knife. And truth be told, he knew it wasn't anything he hadn't brought on himself by egging them on about Stick's puffers.

He knew Jack didn't rate him much higher than the spit on a shoe-shiner's cloth, but hey, give the boy credit, he helped him regardless, even if it was without a warm and fuzzy bedside manner. Hell, he didn't even rate himself much higher either, so why expect someone with a perfect life like the doc to? Besides, what would Mr. Perfect know about guilt and regret anyway, he snorted.

Truth was, he'd never been one to make friends - that kind of connection was just too risky in his line of work. And as long as he kept moving from one con to another, he was able to keep his solo life from making him feel lonely. But here, with nothing to do but brood and read, it was getting harder to convince himself of that belief. He'd made his own little bubble of isolation early on in this camping trip of doom, and he figured it was too late to change that now.

He picked up the dog-eared pages of 'Watership Down' and frowned at the book. As long as he read, he could keep putting his introspective thoughts further away. The last thing he wanted, or needed , was to start feeling sorry for himself and his self executed alienation. If he did that, he'd be forced to look at his feelings of guilt, loss and longing, he thought, as his mind drifted back to the creased and smudged letter he kept in his back pocket. And there was no way in Hell he was going to open that can of worms.

So he forced his eyes back to the adventures of some rabbits, wondering why on earth anyone would want to write a book about a roaming pack of rodents. He had just found the page where he'd left off when he heard a commotion on the path to the caves.

He flicked his eyes up to the forest and saw Freckles emerge from the undergrowth, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. Not too much surprise there, he thought, as they had yet to find the island laundry-mat. But when he saw Dr. Do Right step out right behind her also wearing the same clothes from yesterday, he raised his eyebrows, kicking aside the little flair up of jealousy.

"Well now. Ain't that sweet. You two just coming home from the movies now? Tsk Tsk. That's how rumours get started, kids."

Kate shot him a withering glance that said 'oh grow up, Sawyer' as clearly as if she'd actually voiced the words. Standard frown and eye roll from Kate ... nothing new there. But Doc didn't look too hot.

"Aww, why so sad, Dr. Know? Lover's spat?" he said, unable to resist the opportunity to poke Jack.

Jack's only response was a defensive tensing of the shoulders and a thin lipped shake of the head. He shook out a pill from his bottle of antibiotics and dropped it onto Sawyer's book.

"Here. Take it. Don't take it. Whatever." he said wearily before walking off without a backward glance.

Disappointed in the lack of sparks, Sawyer wondered at the doc's tired response. He watched as Kate's eyes followed Jack's progress across the beach and felt a pang of envy at the connection between those two.

"The boy looks done in, Freckles. If he can't keep up with you, there's always room in my tent," he goaded.

She looked slowly away from Jack and met Sawyer's eyes. Her only response was a disdainful look and a shake of her head before she walked off in the direction that Jack had taken.

"Aww, Hell," he muttered to himself. "These folks are just no fun at all."

He swallowed the pill dry and glared at the page he'd been reading. He resented her look of condescension almost as much as he resented the hurt he was feeling at her rejection.


	8. A Calm Before the Storm

_Okay ….. I needed a break from the Jack and Kate angst, so this next chapter is more reminiscent of their fireside chats …. It still advances the story (you'll see in the next chapter), but since they have "happy/calm moments" on the show, I figured it was time for them to have one in this story._

_Enjoy …. and for all you angst lovers, fear not … there is more coming, as this chapter's title insinuates._

* * *

"A Calm Before the Storm"

"Dude! Would you stop yelling? I have no clue what you're saying!"

Emerging from the tree-line, Jack looked up at the sound of Hurley's exasperated voice. Grinning at the drama in front of him, he watched Jin make frantic gestures with his hands and bark out orders in Korean to Hurley. By the looks of it, Hurley was trying to learn how to fish from Jin, but the language barrier seemed to be frustrating both of them. He watched as Jin pointed to Hurley and made elaborate flapping motions with his arms and then shook his head adamantly.

"Dude, what! Are you making fun of me? I don't flap like that at all! No yelling! Hey!You just called me name, didn't you!"

"Careful, you're smiling again, Jack. Don't want to make a habit out of that."

He didn't turn, or even jump at the sound of Kate's voice; he'd already known she was there. The longer they spent on this island, it seemed the more in tune he was with her presence. For whatever reason, it always seemed like his nerve endings tingled when she was near.

With a short huff of a chuckle, his smile widened. "No, we can't have that happen, can we." he turned his head and met her gaze briefly, before looking back out at the 'odd couple' of fishing. "This a new thing?" he asked, nodding his head in Jin and Hurley's direction.

Kate continued to watch his profile for another moment, before following the direction of his gaze. "With the boar running short, I guess Hurley decided to concentrate on seafood. He's followed Jin around like this for the past two days, and he doesn't seem to have made any progress," she said with smile.

It had been almost a week since that day in the clearing, when she had finally glimpsed the man behind the mask, and she had found herself thinking of Jack more and more each day. Even though he still looked tired and she doubted that he'd slept much, she was relieved to see him standing still for at least a moment; even more relieved to see him smile. For the past week she had found herself looking for reasons to stop in at the caves, as if the bond she felt with him kept tugging her there. As she watched Hurley and Jin thrash around in the surf, she reflected on how once, she would have fought against that tug, but now, she just didn't seem to want to fight it as much anymore.

"Well, at least it's keeping them both out of trouble," he chuckled.

Seemingly in unison, they both turned and walked slowly down the beach, the uneven sand causing them to periodically brush against each other. It always amazed Jack how comfortable they were with each other ... this easy intimacy between them.

"Speaking of food, how is your garden doing?" he asked, shifting his backpack up higher on his shoulders.

"You mean Sun's garden ... I'm just the manual labour," she said ruefully. "It seems to be doing well, though it will be a while before we're able to get much from it. We did have a minor set back a few days ago, though, when Vincent got off his leash and discovered the spot."

Enjoying the benign and somehow "normal" conversation, Jack looked over at Kate and raised an eyebrow.

"Do I want to know?" he asked cautiously.

Kate wrinkled her nose up in a disgruntled expression, reminding him sharply of how she had done that in her sleep, and he smiled softly at the memory. She snorted and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said drolly, "well, I figure he was either trying to dig us an escape route off the island via the passion fruit bed, or he simply disapproved of our planting location." She looked up and gave him a rueful smile. "But no major damage ... the seeds had only just been planted, so there weren't any seedlings to lose, fortunately."

She shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, and paused briefly mid stride. "In a way he did help. I ... um, _we_," she quickly corrected, "planted the guava seeds where he dug up some ground. He does make a good little ground cultivator."

His step faltered for a split second when she mentioned the guava seeds. He still wasn't sure what had possessed him to get those for her, but he felt a little surge of warmth spread through him at the thought of her having planted them.

Smiling, he looked over and met her gaze for a moment, more thankful than he could ever express for the respite her presence had given him ... allowing him a momentary break from his concerns; Kate seemed to have almost a healing affect on him at times.

"How is your supply of fruit down here doing?" he asked. "The trees are getting pretty picked over up by the caves ... ".

Rubbing the back of her neck thoughtfully, she answered with a small grimace. "Well, it's about the same down here. There's lots of new fruit growing, but most of it isn't ripe yet."

Nodding his head in understanding, he paused as they came to the shelter where the beach dwellers kept their water supply. He opened up his bag and pulled out the dozen or so full bottles of water and stacked them in the shallow hole someone had dug in an attempt to keep the water a bit cooler.

"Same with us. There is some fruit all the way up, but, it's so high that when it drops, it just splatters into a mess."

She watched Jack fill up his bag with empty bottles and wondered if the people here had any clue that Jack brought down most of their water. As with most things he did, Jack flew under the radar when it came to being helpful; he never made a big production out of helping people, and his role of "water boy" was no different.

"You need something to catch the fruit with when it falls, then ... make it a two-man kind of operation," she suggested.

He looked up at her from his crouched position and pursed his lips in concentration. "Go on, I'm listening," he said nodding.

"Well, you could use a shirt, or blanket or something and have one person on the ground hold it out, while someone in the tree drops the fruit down. Should be able to keep the fruit safe from the impact of landing on the ground."

"It's worth a shot," he said as he stood, zipping his bag back up. "I'll ask around and see who's game to try it up there."

Seeing her quizzical look, he said with chagrin. "I, um ... don't climb trees, Kate."

Raising an eyebrow at him in disbelief. "You don't climb trees?" she asked, repeating his statement.

"Well, it's more a case of that the trees don't let me climb _them_," he said ruefully. "I fall out of them. A lot. Apparently, I failed to inherit the 'tree climbing gene'," he said with a grimace.

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, Kate's eyes twinkled in amusement at the image his words had conjured. "Give me a minute to get something to catch the fruit with, and I'll go with you," she said and headed to her shelter before he could even say a word. She returned a moment later with her bag, and rummaged through the pile of extra clothes that were kept next to the water bottles. Finding something she thought would work, she jammed it into her bag, along with a bottle of water. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she stood and turned to Jack.

"Ready?" she asked expectantly, with her hands on her hips and head cocked to the side.

Recognizing her body language, Jack knew it would be useless to argue.

"Apparently," he said with a bemused sigh, and motioned for her to lead the way.


	9. When Darkness Falls

_okay folks, here's a nice long chapter for you all ... hope it tides you over 'til I can get the next chapter done ;-)_

* * *

"When Darkness Falls"

They had been gathering fruit for several hours and hadn't realized just how far from camp they had wandered. Although Jack had been right about there being fruit in the upper branches by the caves, it still didn't amount to very much. So they had moved further into the jungle to get more, hoping to scout out a better source at the same time. While the task of gathering fruit was tedious, neither of them complained as each was enjoying the other's company.

Kate had just climbed back down out of a breadfruit tree when a gust of cool wind swirled around her. She felt goose bumps break out along her arms from the sudden change in temperature and looked over at Jack. With a slight frown creasing his forehead, he looked up at the sky and grimaced at the dark clouds he saw moving in swiftly.

"I guess we're in for a shower," he said drolly, quickly stuffing some of the fruit into his bag.

Kate's reply was cut off as a loud peal of thunder crashed above their heads, causing them both to jump.

"Come on Kate, we'd better get back before the storm hits."

Tying together the corners of the shirt they'd been using to catch fruit with, Kate hurriedly jammed the bulky wad into her pack. Hefting the bag onto her shoulder, she looked around and frowned at their surroundings.

"We've gone a bit further than I realized," she called out, shouting to be heard over the sound of the wind rushing through the trees.

"Think you can get us back to the trail before it gets worse?" Jack called back.

"Yes, as long as we get there before the rain starts," she shouted. Her words were partially drowned out by another crack of thunder, but Jack got the gist of what she was saying and nodded.

They had only gone a few yards when Mother Nature decided to mock her words. The wind abruptly seemed to stop, causing them both to pause and look at each other in confusion. Then, much to her dismay, the first heavy raindrop struck her on the forehead and the winds resumed with even greater fury; howling through the trees with a vengeance.

She was just about to yell that they needed to hurry, when all hell broke loose. With a loud crack, which she initially thought was just more thunder, a branch broke off from high above. Catching sight of it at the last second, she jumped back and turned, pushing Jack out of the way. Surprised at the suddenness of her action, Jack fell backwards and the two of them rolled a few yards down the hill.

"You okay?" he shouted, his hands automatically skimming over her body to check for broken bones.

"I'm fine," Kate reassured him, nodding her head while she checked him for injuries. "Branch fell," she explained loudly and pointed back up the hill.

Following her gesture, he looked up and saw a branch, easily as thick as a telephone pole, lying in a splintered mess on the ground where they'd both stood only seconds before. Swallowing reflexively in shock, he could only nod his head and choke out a startled "Thank you".

Taking a shaky breath, he got to his feet and reached a hand down to help her up. She accepted his hand with a grateful smile and pulled herself up. She had just gotten to her feet, when another explosion of thunder rocked the skies and threw open the gates to the storm.

Blinking her eyes against the wind, she motioned for them to make a run for it. He nodded his agreement and pointed ahead of them questioningly. With a shrug of her shoulders, she indicated that she didn't have any better suggestion and gestured for him to lead the way. She followed him through the jungle, which had turned dark with the gloom of the storm, and shivered with trepidation. Even though they had been here for some time now, it always surprised her just how quickly the sky could become dark when the rain came. As if shutting off the hallway light, Mother Nature seemed to switch off daylight with the abruptness of an impatient parent at bedtime.

Sometimes, the rain came in stages, working its way from a misting to a downpour, but not this time. With only a handful of fat raindrops as warning, the skies opened up and let free the flood from above. Not even the dense canopy of trees above was able to protect them from the rain. Within seconds, they were both drenched and the solid ground had turned into a slick quagmire of mud that alternated between sucking her feet 6 inches into the ooze, and sending her hydroplaning across rocks coated in the slippery muck.

She struggled to keep her eyes trained on Jack's back, but the rain was so intense, it felt like she was trying to look through a waterfall. She followed the motion of his faint outline as he too, fought to navigate the suddenly treacherous terrain.

"Jack!" she yelled, striving to be heard over the roar of the storm. Catching up to him, she tugged at his shirt to get his attention. "Jack, we need to find some cover and wait this out."

Even though she stood not two feet away from him, he could barely discern her words. He nodded in reply, knowing that words were useless in the din of the rain. He looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of somewhere promising, but to no avail, as he could barely see 6 feet ahead of him.

He turned to ask her if she had any idea where they were, but the grim shake of her head told him that she was as turned around as he was. He motioned for her to follow him up the hill, hoping that they'd find some shelter further up. She nodded her quick ascent, and followed as closely behind him as she could. She saw him lose his footing and grabbed onto his backpack to steady him, a futile gesture considering their difference in size. Her action caused her to careen into him, nearly sending them both tumbling. He reached back and held out his hand for her to grasp, pulling her upright again. Still holding her hand, he continued up the hill, trying to find something, anything, that would offer cover from the rain.

He almost didn't see it, but the unusual shadow to the right made him take a second glance. He stopped suddenly, causing Kate to run into him, and tried to peer through the gloom. Kate followed his line of sight, and her sharp eyes picked up what he saw.

"Cave?" she hollered, her voice hoarse.

Jack looked back at her and flashed a relieved smile. He nodded and gently tugged her in that direction.

What had at first appeared to be a small hole in the rocky hillside, actually turned out to be the opening to a cave, half hidden by vines. Hoping to find that the cave was empty, he motioned for Kate to stay still, while he checked inside. Satisfied that there were no other occupants, he gestured her inside.

While he had to stoop to get through the opening, Kate had little difficulty. The feeble light that managed to enter the cave did little to illuminate their surroundings, so Kate fished out her lighter and after a few fumbling attempts with hands shaking from the cold, she managed to get a spark.

Raising her hand high in the air, she scanned the immediate area. "Kate…"

Turning back to Jack, she saw him crouched on the ground, holding up part of a branch. Hoping that the wood was dry enough, she knelt next to him and held the flame to the wood. They each breathed a sigh of relief when the branch caught and began to burn. With the increased light, they were able to see that the cave, while small, was actually larger than they first thought. When she caught the dull flash of metal in the back corner, she motioned for Jack to hold the light steady.

"What's wrong, Kate?" he asked, suddenly realizing that she was still shivering with cold.

"There's something back here," she said and scrambled over to the corner before he could he could warn her to be careful. Not that it would do any good, he thought wryly, familiar with her independent streak.

"Look at this…" Kate said in confusion, beckoning him to bring the light closer as she brushed rotting vegetation from the top of something.

Waving the makeshift torch in front of him, he could make out the rough shape of what appeared to have once been a box of some sort. The wood was split, and even rotten away in some spots, but the broken metal clasp reflected dully in the torch's glow.

"It looks like an old crate," he said with surprise. He leaned forward, squinting at the faded markings, "It looks like Asian writing …. maybe Japanese?" he wondered out loud.

She pulled at the loose boards and found that the brittle wood snapped off easily into large chunks. Grabbing a fistful of what looked like hay from inside, Kate sat back on her heels and flashed a little smile of relief. "Well, whatever it was, it's kindling now."

Together they pulled apart the disintegrating box and made quick work of starting a fire near the entrance of the cave.

"Light? Check. Heat? Check. Hard ground? Check. It feels just like home now, doesn't it?" she shivered.

He gave a rusty chuckle at her observation, but became concerned with her trembling. He cast a disparaging eye at the ever-darkening sky just beyond the mouth of the cave and realized that there was little chance that they'd be able to return to camp tonight.

"You're shivering Kate. You need to get dry. You've still got that shirt in your bag, right? The one we were using to catch fruit?" She bobbed her head in agreement. "Okay, why don't you put that on and let your clothes dry. I'll see if there is anything else usable in here. Someone decided to keep a box in here, so maybe there's something else … "

While Jack investigated the back of the cave to give Kate some privacy, she hastily pulled off her sopping wet garments and tugged on the damp shirt that had been in her bag.

In the back of the cave, Jack held the torch with one hand, and awkwardly sifted through the contents of what remained of the crate with the other.

"I wonder if this was used as a Japanese outpost during WWII," he said, coming across a tin with what appeared to be a military insignia of some kind on it. Running his thumb over the foreign characters written on the side of the tin, he wondered what had become of its owner.

Up front, Kate pondered his words. "Could be," she said, vaguely remembering something from history class about Japanese soldiers being stationed on islands throughout the Pacific during the war.

Setting aside a few more rusty and battered tins, Jack paused when his hand came across a cold, smooth object. Pulling the object out, he held it up to the light and shook his head in disbelief. Opening the top, he took a sniff to verify its contents.

"You decent up there?" he called out to Kate.

"Yeah, and we're in luck …. the fruit didn't get too beaten up in the fall … so at least we have food."

Gathering up his findings, Jack returned to the front where Kate was spreading her wet clothes out on the ground near the edge of the fire. He shook his head and chuckled softly at what she was wearing. "Nice shirt, Kate."

Kate glanced down at the shirt she was wearing. It was easily 4 times too big on her and swallowed up her small frame. She gave a small snort of laughter. "Yeah well…beggars can't be choosers." Seeing what he had brought back, she looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I think so. It smells like it, anyway." He passed the bottle of sake over to her, saying, "Good old fashioned Japanese rice wine … here, a little bit might help with your chill."

Wiping the top of the bottle, Kate tipped it up at took a sip. Blinking her eyes against the sting of it, she made at face at the bottle. "Oh, that's awful, Jack."

"Not a great year, huh?" he smiled and tossed her a piece of fruit.

"I'm pretty sure this never had a good year," she grimaced. But as she took another drink, she decided that the warmth she was beginning to feel made up for the taste. "You're clothes are wet too, Jack," she commented. "Are you going to be okay?"

He shrugged off her concerns and moved a bit closer to the fire. While he knew he'd be more comfortable without the wet fabric clinging to him, he just couldn't bring himself to strip off layers; it was intimate enough in here as it was and he didn't want to tempt fate, or his hormones, by making it even cozier. The last thing he wanted was for her think he was like a teenager claiming that the "car had run out of gas" just to get her in the backseat; her respect was something that he cherished too much to risk by misinterpreting her signals. "I'll be fine."

Settling into an easy silence, they munched on their meagre supply of fruit and let the fire warm them. Kate passed the bottle to Jack, and for a moment, thought he wouldn't take it. But with a barely perceptible sigh of resignation, he took the bottle. He took a drink and immediately started coughing.

"Oh God, that is bad!" he sputtered ruefully, scowling at the bottle. At the sound of a snort, he looked up to see Kate fighting back laughter.

"Not a great year, huh?" she mimicked, with her eyebrows raised in challenge.

He just shook his head and chuckled softly. "You enjoyed that didn't you?"

Kate just flashed him a grin and reached for another piece of fruit.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the now pleasantly warm cave; the mixture of heat from the fire and humidity from the drying clothes, making them both drowsy. With her eyelids drifting shut, she was starting to doze off a bit when she heard Jack add more of the wooden boards to the fire. She shifted to find a more comfortable position on the cave floor and saw that his clothes were still damp. Hoping that a bit more of the liquor would warm him as it had her, she passed him the bottle. He hesitated briefly, looking at the bottle for a long moment without taking a drink.

"I know it's pretty bad, Jack, but it won't bite", she said, watching him keenly from beneath a furrowed brow. She studied him as he took a sip, and then stared at the bottle in his hands.

"My father is an alcoholic. _Was. _My father _was_ an alcoholic," he said. His voice was drowsy from the relaxing heat of the fire; the combined effects of exhaustion and warmth allowing his thoughts temporary freedom from the emotional prison he kept them in.

Propping her head up on her hand, she looked over at him, startled to hear him open up like that. Afraid that if she said something, it would break the spell and he'd clam up again, she simply looked at him and said nothing.

"That's part of what killed him," he said as he took another tiny sip, almost as if in tribute to his father, and passed the bottle back to her. He met her gaze briefly before turning his attention back to the flames.

Kate set the bottle aside and watched him stare into the fire. And just that quickly, he seemed to retreat back into his own private limbo. Typical Jack, she thought; as soon as he exposed some part of what made him tick, he put the walls back up, as if bracing for a condemning blow. Even half asleep, he seemed determined to keep his defences up. But this time, he had let her in. Not far, but for once he wasn't shutting her out completely.

"Part of?" she asked. "What was the other part?" she wondered, assuming it had been a car accident, or some other alcohol induced tragedy.

Me, he thought to himself, but unwilling to let that much slip out. His guilt over what he perceived to be his role in his father's final binge was still too raw.

He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and twisted his body in the cramped space, trying to find a comfortable position to lie down in. Kate pursed her lips, knowing that there was more that he wasn't saying, but that now was not the time to push. It was amazing really, how much she had learned to read his body language. They'd not even been here 2 months, but in some ways, she felt like she had known him for so much longer. Since that day in the clearing, when she'd gotten a glimpse of the human inside the hero, she'd gained a new appreciation for the many emotional layers she now knew existed behind the capable image he projected.

"Here," she offered and scooted over, giving him room to stretch out a bit. He nodded his head in appreciation, and tugged their bags over to serve as pillows.

She was just starting to drift off to sleep when she felt his warm hand on her arm. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice sleepy.

"For what?"

"For not pushing."

She smiled softly in the flickering shadows and reached up to squeeze his hand.

"That's what people who care about you do, Jack …" she began, but drifted off to sleep before she could say anything more.

But Jack didn't notice her silence, as he too had at long last, fallen asleep.


	10. Holding on in the Dark

"Holding on in the Dark"

At first Kate thought she was dreaming, that her confusing feelings for Jack had amped up her sleep-relaxed imagination. She knew she was in a cave, taking cover from the storm with Jack, so she understood the reason for her unfamiliar surroundings. But what she couldn't explain was the warm male body pressed up against her, or the tanned arm thrown across her waist. So, initially, she assumed that her imagination was treating her to a very nice dream and sent a little prayer heavenward that she would not wake up anytime soon.

When a piece of wood collapsed into the fire and sent a puff of soot in her direction, she sneezed abruptly and realized with a start that it wasn't a dream. Somehow, sometime during the night, they had ended up snuggled together in this intimate position. But as much as she was enjoying the comfort of his arms, she was certain that Jack would be horribly embarrassed when he woke up; worrying that it would just complicate things. So, she let herself enjoy the contentment and safety that she felt in his sleepy embrace for just a moment longer, before attempting to wiggle out from beneath him. But when she felt him tighten his arm around her waist and tuck her back against him, she froze.

"Jack?" she whispered."Are you awake?"

His response was muffled against her hair, but when she felt his warm breath against the back of her neck, she shivered and felt her pulse leap. Despite her concerns about her own future, and the self-doubt that had plagued her for as long as she'd been on the run, she had never been able to ignore the fact that she was attracted to Jack on many levels. But ever since coming back from finding the caves that day, when she had teased him about checking her out, she hadn't been able determine how he felt about her. In her experience, men were blatant with their interest in her, an interest that seldom seemed to extend beyond a brief physical liaison, but Jack didn't fit that mould. He treated her like a person, not a trophy, or a burden, or a means to an end. And frankly, she didn't know how to read him because of it … it was something she hadn't known in a very long time. Besides, she tried to convince herself, they were stranded on this damn island and romance and dating should be the last thing on either of their minds, even if she _had_ felt that she deserved the fresh start that his respect seemed to offer. So, while she was very surprised by this turn of events, she realized with a start, that she did in fact want this. And as she felt him whisper something against her hair, she realized that she wanted this change in their relationship more than she was afraid of it.

She put her hand hesitantly on his arm and smiled when she felt him tremble in response. She twisted her body around so that she could face him, and felt a moment of awkwardness. She tucked her head underneath his chin ... unsure what to do next, but wanting to see what might be revealed in those expressive eyes of his.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled her head back to look at him as another tremor shook his frame. Her smile quickly faded when she saw that his eyes were closed and his features were taut with pain.

"Jack?" she asked, her voice suddenly sounding loud in the hushed stillness of the cave.

When she moved to sit up, he clutched at her as another, more violent shiver raced through him. It was then that she realized that he wasn't just warm ... he was hot. Alarmed, she put her hand to his forehead, the way her mother used to do to her father, and felt her breath catch in worry at the scorching heat she felt there.

She shook his shoulder, trying to wake him, but he only made a soft moan of pain and hunched over, as if trying to get warm.

"Jack? Wake up, Jack," she said hoarsely, but the cave remained silent, save for the noise of the storm outside. Watching as another chill racked his body, Kate pressed her cool hands to his face and lightly slapped his cheeks, trying anything she could think of to wake him.

"Come on, Jack," she said, fighting to keep the panic from her voice, "you need to wake up now."

He twisted in his sleep and mumbled something that sounded like "so cold".

"Cold?" Grabbing on to the word as if it were a lifeline, Kate concentrated on that. Seeing that the fire was dying down, she snapped a few more boards in half and fed them to the fire, cursing when in her panic she added too much and almost smothered the fire.

"Come on … come on," she chanted, blowing gently on the embers to reawaken the flames. For what seemed like hours, though in truth it was only minutes, she coaxed the fire back up, repeatedly casting worried glances over her shoulder at Jack's inert form. Satisfied that the wood had caught, she scrambled back over to Jack, hitting her bare knee on a loose rock in the process. She winced at the brief pain, but her attention was riveted on Jack. She took at breath and tried to assess the situation. A fever. He just had a fever. Composing herself, she laid a reassuring hand on his chest and struggled to remember what she knew about fevers.

His clothes were still damp from the rain … judging from the rate the fire had burned down she figured that they'd been asleep for several hours … meaning he'd been lying in wet clothes for some time. She knew enough to know that the wet clothes weren't helping matters, and she mentally berated him for not having gotten out of them hours ago. She chewed on the inside of her lip, debating what to do …. it was one thing to undress a man, she wasn't a saint after all, but it was a whole other thing to try and do it to an unconscious one. She felt the edges of her nerves begin to fray and fought to focus on one task at a time, but watching tremor after tremor sweep through his body made distancing her worries difficult.

"Heat," she said to herself, "he needs more heat." Adding yet more wood to the fire, but carefully this time, she stoked it large and hot. Turning back to Jack, she felt her gut twist in misery at feeling so helpless. She never felt helpless … it was not something she was accustomed to feeling. Yet here she was, staring at the one man she knew she would normally have turned to for help in this kind of situation, but in this case, _she_ was supposed to help _him_.

She leaned in close to him and shook his shoulders, needing him conscious if only for a few moments so that she could work his shirt off. "Come on Jack," she murmured, "come on."

His eyes twitched and fluttered open, but any relief she may have felt at that accomplishment was quickly replaced by dread when she saw his glassy, feverish eyes. Swallowing audibly against the scream of frustration that she felt building up inside her throat, she cupped his face in her hands, trying to keep him from slipping back into unconsciousness.

"Jack … stay with me Jack," she said intensely. When his eyes started to drift shut, she made a sound in the back of her throat that was part growl, part groan and squeezed his face slightly in her grip, saying "No. Jack, you have to stay awake for a minute."

Something in her voice managed to penetrate his feverish world and she could see him struggle to focus on her.

"Kate?" he said, his voice more of a hoarse croak than the steady timbre she had come to know so well.

"Jack, you have a fever …. I need your help," she said urgently as another chill shook his frame.

But her demand fell on deaf ears as he slipped back into unconsciousness, despite her best attempts to the contrary. Kate was determined not to panic. It was only a fever, she repeated to herself. People had fevers all the time and were fine. Jack would be fine. He had to be. There was simply no other alternative in her mind.

With her mouth set in a grim line, she knelt down next to Jack and refused to let his pallor alarm her. It was just that simple. She was an expert at boxing off her emotions, she mentally insisted. Emotions are risky, she reminded herself; just look where they got you before, she thought with a bitter twist to her lips.

"Jack," she said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. He was lying on his side, with his arms crossed tight against his chest, and the chills seemed to be coming non-stop now. "Jack, I need to get these wet clothes off you, okay?"

As she leaned in close to him, she could make out the sound of his teeth chattering, even over the noise of the storm still raging outside. She didn't know if he was even aware of her, but she continued to talk to him anyway; the action helping her, if nothing else. Grasping the hem of his shirt just above his hip, Kate tugged the clammy fabric up, first one side, then the other. The cotton caught where his arms were crossed and she had to struggle with his clenched muscles to pull it free. Grunting from the strain, and sweating as much as from the fire she'd built as from exertion, she finally succeeded in manoeuvring it over his arms and head. Pausing momentarily, she laid her hand along his cheek, the tenderness of the gesture revealing more than she herself realized. Shaking herself back to the task at hand, she tried to silence the little voice inside that dwelt on how surprisingly soft his skin was; even the stubble of his beard was softer than she'd imagined it would be, unconsciously admitting to herself that she had indeed thought about it.

Returning to her business-like approach, she scooted down to his waist, and tugged his belt loose. As she worked the buttons of his fly free, she idly wondered if he realized that one of the buttons was coming loose. She alternately pushed and pulled at the smothering weight of his wet jeans, before finally managing to tug them off with a last jerk, leaving him clad in just his black boxers. She quickly spread his clothes out on the other side of the fire, draping them on the slope of the cave wall, and praying that the heat would dry them quickly.

She turned back to Jack and felt her breath hitch. She'd seen more than her fair share of male flesh, but Jack, even now at his worst, was above and beyond anything she'd seen. That first day on the beach, she'd been too terrified to process the sight of his bare chest, and the time with the bee swarm had been too frantic for more than a hurried glance. But now, there were no such hindrances, save for the guilt she felt in ogling a man incapacitated with fever.

She closed her eyes for a moment to try to regroup, but instead of bolstering her confidence, the action served only to invite an assault from her own insecurities. Resolutely, she looked back over at Jack, who still somehow managed to look strong even while his system was weakened by this illness. She walked over to him, to where he lay still as death except for the chills that shook his frame, and reached for her bag. Digging out the half-empty bottle of water from her pack, she took a small sip before kneeling at his head. She tried to coax him to drink some of the water, but his jaw was clenched tight with agony and chills. She sat back on her heels and fought against the wave of despair that lapped at her consciousness.

She heard him struggle for breath, a hoarse wheezing sound overlaid by a choked moan as his body convulsed with yet another chill. Unable to stand it any longer, she ran her hands gently over his face, wanting to soothe him, but not knowing how. Her hands traced tender caresses over his forehead and jaw, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if she was seeking to give comfort, or to receive it instead. He mumbled something, and though his voice was no more than a whisper, she heard him say her name.

"Jack? I'm here," she said as she leaned in closely.

His eyes struggled open and he looked at her with pained and bewildered eyes.

"I can't get warm," he said with confusion. The simple way he said it, without self-pity or complaint, as if merely stating an unfathomable fact, made her heart break.

"It's okay, Jack. You're going to be fine," she said with determination and far more confidence than she herself felt.

He made no reply, the handful of words just spoken having been enough to sap his strength already. So instead, he just struggled to hold her gaze with his own suffering one.

Her hand never breaking contact with his cheek, she climbed over him, so that he was between her and the fire. Rolling him toward her, she stretched out against him and wrapped her arms around his torso, hoping that the combined effects of the fire and her body heat would bring him some measure of relief.

He resisted for a moment, as if unaccustomed to being the one to receive comfort. But with a sigh that was part tortured groan, part grateful acquiescence, he buried his face in her hair and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his bare chest. Feeling him relax against her, she sighed in relief and twined her bare legs with his, hoping to warm as much of him as she could.

"It'll be okay Jack," she whispered against his neck, as much to herself as to him. She felt his arms tighten around her, but couldn't be sure if it was in acknowledgement of her words, or simply due to the chills that continued to rip through his body. So while he slipped back into unconsciousness, she tried to focus all of her energy and body heat into warming him.

* * *

_Notes: What Jack is actually suffering from is "Dengue Fever", a very real and very dangerous illness. To give you a bit more info on it, and what Jack is going through, here are some basic facts about it._

_Dengue fever is an infectious disease carried by mosquitoes. It is found mostly during and shortly after the rainy season in tropical and subtropical areas of: _

_-Africa _

_-Southeast Asia and China _

_-India _

_-Middle East _

_-Caribbean and Central and South America _

_-Australia and the South and Central Pacific _

_Dengue fever was previously called 'break-bone fever' because itoften causes severe joint and muscle pain. _

_Symptoms of typical uncomplicated dengue usually start within 5 to 6 days after a person has been bitten by an infected mosquito. Some common symptoms are: _

_-Extremely sudden onset of high fever, very often with no warning (or gradual temperature rise) at all. _

_-The __fever may reach 105 degrees Fahrenheit_

_-Severe headache _

_-Pain behind the eye _

_-Severe joint pain _

_-Severe muscle pain _

_-Nausea _

_-Rash : the rash may appear over most of the body 3 to 4 days after the fever begins. (again developing rapidly and spreading in minutes). A second rash may appear later in the disease_

_Dengue fever can be caused by any one of four types of dengue virus: DEN-1, DEN-2, DEN-3, and DEN-4. Infection with one virus does not protect a person against infection with another. A person can be infected by at least two, if not all four types at different times during a life span, but only once by the same type. _

_People contract dengue fever from the bite of an infected Aedes mosquito. Mosquitoes become infected when they bite infected humans, and later transmit infection to other people they bite. _

_A doctor can diagnose dengue fever by performing a blood test. The test will show whether the blood sample contains dengue virus or antibodies to the virus. _

_There is no specific treatment for dengue, and care limited to symptom management. _

_If not treated properly, dengue hemorrhagic fever may occur. Dengue hemorrhagic fever is severe and often fatal._


	11. Fevered Whispers

"Fevered Whispers"

Kate lightly dozed on and off for the next several hours, but was always acutely aware of every brutal tremor and laboured breath that Jack took. She was awoken by an awareness that something missing, a feeling of disorientation, but couldn't immediately identify what was different. After a few moments of trying to clear her foggy brain she realized that Jack was no longer shivering

Relieved that he seemed to be sleeping quietly, Kate reluctantly disengaged her body from his and pushed herself to her feet. Carefully stepping over Jack, Kate stretched her stiff muscles and added a few more boards to the fire. Satisfied that the wood had caught, she reached for the discarded water bottle. Seeing that the rain was still coming down hard, she drained the remaining lukewarm water and gingerly shuffled to the mouth of the cave to refill it with rainwater.

She reached the cave opening and shivered as a gust of cool, damp wind swirled around her. Attempting to stay dry, she stretched out her arm and held the bottle under a stream of rainwater cascading down a groove in the rock face. As she waited for the bottle to fill, Kate puffed out a little breath, causing the loose strands of her hair to flutter momentarily. She cast a concerned look out at the sky, discouraged by the oppressive clouds and incessant downpour. They hadn't been gone long enough for anyone to worry about them, and even if they had been missed, she knew the others wouldn't come looking for them in the rain. But still, she hoped that someone, anyone, would find them … Jack was in no shape to make it back to camp, even if the weather was clear, and she would not … could not, leave Jack alone. So in effect, unless Jack made a sudden recovery, they were stranded here for likely a few more days or until someone came along and found them. But at least Jack seemed to be better, she thought with a relieved sigh. He wasn't shivering anymore and though he was still feverish, surely he was through the worst of it now, she thought, and she capped off the now full bottle.

She had just come back into the cave, when she saw Jack stagger to his feet. Her quick burst of relief at finding him conscious and alert soon faded, though.

"Jack? How are you feeling?" she asked as she moved quickly to his side.

"What?" he asked in confusion, and turned to look at her with blank, fever-bright eyes.

Kate felt her optimism take a hit at the evidence that he was still so very ill. "Jack, I think you should sit down. You need to rest," she said a bit more forcefully, trying to push the bottle of water into his hands.

He shook his head in a slow, woozy manner and pushed her hands away, knocking the water bottle to the ground. "No. What are you talking about?" he mumbled, his voice hollow. "I have a meeting with the Chief of Staff and the hospital board … with my father … the medical review about Beth," he rasped out disjointedly, and tried to walk away, swaying heavily on his feet.

"Jack? What are you talking about?" she frowned, fighting against the rising panic she felt, witnessing him in this delusional state of mind. She put her hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. "Who's Beth?"

She groaned inwardly at the scorching heat of his skin under her fingertips. He cast drunken looks around the cave, as if looking for something. "Where?" he mumbled, his words thick and barely audible, "Where is it?"

"Jack, stop it," she said, a note of pleading creeping into her voice. She reached out and grabbed his arm, insisting, "You're sick. You have a fever."

He shook her off him, the erratic motion sending her stumbling back a few steps. "I have to be there. Do you think I want to? Do you? But I have to be there. I owe him," he muttered hoarsely, looking at her with wild, feverish eyes. He staggered a few steps, weaving dangerously close to the fire.

Kate, her heart in her throat, lunged after him. "Damn it, Jack! Listen to me!" She pushed herself in front of him, determined to hold her ground. "There is no meeting! No hospital. We crashed here, remember?"

He blinked at her before covering his eyes with his hand, as if in pain. "I gave my word," he insisted, his voiced filled with despair as he took a halting step forward. "Have to ……. gave my word," he whispered in confusion. He gripped his head in agony and began to fall forward as a low groan was ripped from his throat.

"Jack!" Kate gasped in alarm as she tried to break his fall. But her hands, finding no purchase on his bare skin, slid down his chest. She felt his knees give out and his body sag heavily against her. Unable to support his weight, she stumbled and fell backwards as he collapsed on top of her. She winced as her elbow connected with the ground painfully and she had her breath knocked out of her. She tried to sit up but found that she was still pinned beneath Jack's body, the weight of his solid frame holding her down. He braced his hands on either side of her head and tried to push himself up, but his arms refused to co-operate and buckled under the strain. With a muttered curse, he slumped back down on her and struggled for breath.

"Jack? Are you hurt?" she asked with alarm, running her hands over his shoulders, his arms.

"Damn it! I can barely move …" he groaned in dismay, attempting to shift his body. "What's going on?"

She managed to gently grip his shoulders and roll him onto his back, where he lay sprawled weakly on the ground with his eyes squeezed shut. "You have a fever. A high one, I think."

He opened his eyes and grimace in pain at the brightness of the fire. Shifting his eyes to where Kate hovered over him, he took note of her elbow. He tried to push himself up into a sitting position, saying, "You're bleeding, Kate. Here, let me clean it .."

Kate interrupted him with a shake of her head. "It's fine, Jack. You need to rest," she said, breathing a sigh of relief that he seemed aware of his surroundings again.

"But … " his protest was cut short when a blinding pain arced through his skull, causing him to grab his head. A choked moan escaped before he could stop it; the pain behind his eyes so intense that he could barely catch his breath.

"Jack? What's wrong?" she asked in confusion. When he made no response she lightly gripped his forearms, trying to move them so she could see what was wrong.

He waited until the pain lessened enough that he could breathe again, before saying hoarsely, "Eyes … pain … behind my eyes." Gritting his teeth against the throbbing in his head, he fisted his hands, pressing them tightly to his eyes.

Feeling a trickle of damp air sweep past them, she wrapped her arm under his shoulders and coaxed him to get up. "Come on, Jack," she encouraged. "Let's move back to the other side of the fire."

He nodded absently and allowed her to help him stand. Leaning heavily on Kate, as his legs were still reluctant to support him, they wobbled back to where their bags were. She awkwardly eased him down, and gently lowered him back so that his head was cushioned on her pack. She retrieved the bottle from where it had rolled, and muttered a thanks that the lid had been on tightly enough for none of it to have spilled.

Unscrewing the cap, she wiped the mouth of the bottle with the sleeve of her shirt and urged Jack to take a drink. When he shook his head tightly, she snorted in frustration, saying, "Jack, you need to drink some water … just a little bit, okay?"

He reluctantly lowered his hands and reached for the bottle. He managed a few sips before the next wave of pain reverberated through his skull.

Grabbing the bottle from his suddenly slack hands, Kate could only watch helplessly as his body contorted with pain. She watched as he fought to regain his breath, the choked gasps reminding her of Shannon's asthma attacks. She felt her own breathing quicken as her instinct to run for help fought to take over. But there was no help. The only doctor on the island was the one suffering, and God help him, she was all he had right now.

He had his hands covering his eyes, the heels of his palms pressing hard against the pain, and something about that tickled the recesses of her memory. Her mom used to do that when Kate was a little girl. She would clutch her face and turn out the lights. Her dad had explained that it was because of her mother's headaches … migraines, she would later realize.

Kate felt a trickle of calm enter into her. She knew how to help with migraines; maybe the same care could help with Jack's pain?

She got up and quickly retrieved her now dry tank top, and moved to the entrance of the cave where she soaked it in the coldwater still sheeting off the side of the rocky hill. She wrung it out lightly, and hurried back into the depths of the cave. Kneeling next to Jack, she rested a soft hand on his chest and soothingly said, "this might help, but it will probably be a bit cold at first."

Jack, breathing short, rigidly measured breaths, swallowed hard and nodded briefly. He lowered his hands, but kept his eyes squeezed tightly shut. She lightly draped the cold, damp cotton over his face, covering his eyes. He gasped at the cold, but didn't try to fight it.

Scooting up and over a bit, she gently transferred his head from her bag to her lap. With delicate pressure she massaged his head; from his temples to the base of his skull, working in the slow, even circles that had often helped her mom sleep. Their doctor once said that while the massage likely didn't help the pain, the touch itself was soothing to the soul, and consequently, helped the rest of the person. So she gently rubbed his head, her fingers brushing over the velvety texture of his closely cropped hair, and the softness of the nape of his neck.

She felt his breathing gradually change … the rhythm shifting in time to her slow and steady movements. Folding the edges of the wet fabric so that only his eyes were covered, she softly massaged his face. With gentle pressure, she swept her fingers in small circles across his forehead and temples, lingering for a moment over the fading scratches on his cheek, reminders of the crash that brought them all here. She continued to massage his face, moving down to his jaw, and then to the spot right behind his earlobe. She wasn't surprised by the tension she found there; anyone who carried as much responsibility on his shoulders as Jack did, was bound to be a jaw clencher, she thought wryly.

She moved to adjust the cloth to better cover her eyes, when much to her dismay, she discovered that the cloth was already warm from his fevered skin. Slowly, so as not to disturb him, she reached out for the bottle of water.

"I'm just going to take this off for a moment, Jack," she said, warning him against the light. But when she lifted the fabric off, she saw that his eyes were closed, whether in sleep or unconsciousness, she didn't know. She quickly uncapped the bottle and after taking a quick swig herself, doused the cloth with the cool water. She squeezed out the excess before laying it back over his eyes again.

So, for a little while, she sat with his head cradled in her lap and resumed the massage whenever she saw him grimace from a new wave of pain.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

She was starting to doze off, when a noise brought her back fully alert. It was a low, groaning sound, the kind a wounded animal would make. It took a second for her to realize that it was coming from Jack. Resettling his head on her bag, she moved to his side.

"Jack?" she whispered, and when she gently shook him, her alarm grew at how hot he felt … much hotter than before.

"No, Jack, you can't get sicker," she said with panic. "You need to get over this. You're not allowed to get sicker!" she chanted desperately. His moan changed to a strangled gasp of pain and he drew his arms protectively across his chest, twisting his body restlessly.

"Jack? What's wrong?" she asked, choking back a sob of fear. It seemed like every time she thought he was getting better, he got worse instead.

Oblivious to Kate's desperate plea, Jack clenched his jaw in agony and breathed short, gasping breathes through his teeth. She tried to sooth him, but his body was caught in the throes of some excruciating internal attack.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely more than a tortured murmur.

"Jack, it's okay. You're going to be okay," she said, rubbing his hand reassuringly.

With a quickness that surprised her, he caught her hand in his. Looking up at his face, she saw that the cloth over his eyes had fallen off during his tossing and turning, and he was looking at her with eyes so full of misery, pain and sheer grief, that it sent shivers down her spine.

"Sarah," he rasped hoarsely, gripping her hand fiercely. "I'm sorry … my fault …. I never … should have …" his words trailed off into a low growl of pain and he gripped his shoulder, as if reeling from an unseen punch.

Kate, still shaken by the sight of those haunted, tormented eyes, barely noticed when his grip slackened and his hand fell away from hers. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, Jack was getting worse. And the anguished apology to this mysterious Sarah, sounded terrifyingly like a deathbed plea for absolution.

Jack was sick … maybe even dying, and she couldn't do a damned thing to help him.

His eyes were closed again, but his breath was laboured and pained, his body writhing in agony from wounds she could not see.

She sat there in shock as the realization hit her that Jack may actually die. It was like when he'd been trapped in the cave in, but this time, there wasn't anything she could do to save him… there were no rocks to move or dirt to dig through. Only an invisible illness that was sucking the strength right out of him, and she was powerless to stop it, she thought numbly.

His hands were clenched into tight fists, and he mumbled incoherently. She didn't have to understand the words to hear the absolute desolation in them.

This couldn't happen, not again. She couldn't watch another person she cared about … was very likely falling in love with, she finally admitted, die, simply because they chose to stay and help her.

With a low moan of her own, she scrambled to her feet, and pressing her hand to her mouth, raced outside the cave in sheer panic. She slipped on the muddy ground and fell forward with a jarring thud, and lay crumpled on the ground in anguish and self-loathing. As the cold rain pelted her with Hell-born fury, she finally gave in to the sobs clogging her throat. Pulling her knees under her, she dug her fingers into the wet mud of the jungle floor and released the emotions she had been keeping locked up. Once the gates were thrown open, the sobs turned to screams of grief and terror, as she lay on the ground, muddy and scared, confused and heartbroken ...

* * *

_Just an FYI, in case you're wondering, lol, Jack's Dengue Fever has now advanced to include the following symptoms _

_Severe headache _

_Pain behind the eye _

_Severe joint pain _

_Severe muscle pain _

_And the reason he is clutching his arms, chest, etc is because of the severity of the joint and muscle pain, where it actually feels like your bones are breaking. In fact Dengue fever was previously called 'break-bone fever' because of that pain._


	12. Muddy Angels

"Muddy Angels"

Why did it have to be her, she ranted? Why him? She was the last person here that could help him. Who was she anyway? Just a thieving, lying, fugitive who seemed to curse anything she touched. It was all her fault. If she hadn't suggested that they go out looking to find more fruit, he would have been back at the caves or beach where Sun would have known what to do. If Jack died, it would be because of her, just as surely as if she had put a gun against his head and pulled the trigger. He had done nothing but trust her and give her the benefit of the doubt, even after the incident with the case. And how had she repaid him? By lying to him, and now causing him to be stranded out here with her, when he needed help…help she didn't have to give.

As her mind flashed back to that day by the spring when he had given her the seeds, she beat the ground with her open palms in anger at the unfairness of it all. Kate pushed herself back up on her hands and knees, her sobs turning into a low keening sound. With the rain plastering the oversized shirt to her body, and flattening her hair into wet, clinging, ropes, an anguished cry of "No!" ripped free from her throat, the emotion coming from so deep inside that she felt light headed.

She couldn't do this; she couldn't help him, she thought as she collapsed back to the ground in defeat. Her fear was overwhelming her, shutting down her ability to think, to move, to breathe. It was one thing to stitch a wound up … she'd had Jack there to talk her through it, after all. But this was something altogether different. She closed her wet eyes and saw him that day, so calm in the middle of all the chaos, telling her the story of his operation. "You aren't running now," he'd said when she had expressed doubt in her own strength.

She swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes shut to hold onto that moment. As she counted with him in her memory, she felt something inside of her shift, as strength trickled back into her psyche. Scrambling to stand up, she wiped a grimy hand across her face and looked up at the sky. Blinking against the rain still teeming down, she threw a defiant glare at the world.

"No!" she snarled defiantly, ashamed at having almost given into the fear.

She strode back to the cave with grim resolve. She would not let this happen. She would not let him give into this fever, or to give up period. She'd be damned if she was going to let someone who needed her … whom she needed, die again. History would not repeat itself, she vowed. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she was not going to run.

She re-entered the cave and after checking on Jack, quickly took the empty bottle and refilled it. She added a bit more wood to the fire, but her wet clothes still chilled her. Knowing that she should not tempt fate by remaining wet and cold, she made the decision to change back into her clothes. But, when she went to put them on, she remembered that her tank top was now serving as a compress for Jack. Her adaptive mind thinking quickly, she pulled on her dry pants and after shucking the sopping shirt, pulled Jack's shirt, now dry, over her head, not wasting time on her bra. As she pulled the worn cotton over her head, she was engulfed by emotion. Inhaling deeply, the shirt still smelled like Jack and she felt a little flip in her belly at the intimacy of wearing his clothes.

Regaining her focus, she looked at the wet shirt in her hands and was about to spread it out to dry, when another memory intruded on her consciousness. She remembered once, when her dad had been ill, her mom had assigned her the task of bringing bowls of cool water, so that her mom could help lower his fever with cold compresses.

So she resumed her seat next to Jack, and folded the wet shirt into a manageable sized square, prepared to do the same thing for Jack. But as she looked at him lying there still as death, she felt useless and powerless to help him. _What is a wet rag going to do to help?_ she thought bitterly.

She sat back on her heels and closing her eyes briefly, took a deep breath. She scrubbed her hands over her face and blinked back tears of frustration. Focus, she told herself, just focus on one thing at a time …

She tentatively ran the cloth over his face and down his throat. Suddenly, inexplicably shy, she found herself blushing and darting quick looks up to his face as she progressed further down. Acutely aware of the expanse of bare skin, she hesitantly swept the cloth over his shoulders and down his arms, lingering over the mysterious tattoos on his bicep and inner arm. With soft hands, she moved the wet fabric over his chest, across the sprinkling of chest hair, then down the taut planes of his abdomen.

Feeling her face heat, she chastised herself for her wayward thoughts and slid the cloth down over his legs, bathing them in the cool moisture of the shirt. She re-wet the fabric and began the process again; tracing the compress over the planes and angles of his face, brushing over the strong column of his throat, then caressing his shoulders and chest, briefly flattening her palm over his heart and feeling the shallow vibrations of his heartbeat against her hand.

She tried to ignore the way the firelight cast dancing shadows across his body, as if trying to tempt her to explore further. She tried to avoid dwelling on the way the sound of the storm seemed to cocoon them from the outside world. But try as she might, she couldn't completely distance herself from the intimacy of her thoughts; now that she had cracked the door open to her feelings, she seemingly could no longer shut the door. Something significant had happened in the last few hours. Now that she had finally admitted to her feelings … her growing feelings, she was unable to close her heart off. Now she looked at Jack not with the eyes of just a friend, but with the eyes of something more.

She tried to lift his head and shoulders up and coax him to drink some water. Satisfied with the little bit he managed to swallow, she held him there for a few more moments and rested her head in the crook of his neck, gathering the strength she knew she'd need.

Kate reluctantly eased him back down and added more wood to the fire, realizing suddenly that they were almost out of wood. She darted looks around the cave, hoping to see some wood she had missed earlier, but didn't see anything. She estimated that they only had enough wood for a few more hours, maybe a day if she were lucky, but then they would be left with nothing. Right now he was feverish, but what if he got those chills again? How could she keep him warm without a fire? Everything was soaking wet outside … there wouldn't be anything to use for firewood there. Her worries escalating, she had visions of him dying while all she could do was watch helplessly. She would be alone … but what terrified her wasn't the 'being alone' part, it was the losing Jack, part.

The fear rose in her throat, so that she began to feel ill with it. She tried to ignore the panic that clawed at her gut, but it was no use. Her hands shook with it, her teeth chattered from it, and her head filled with the dull roar of terror mixed with despair. She struggled to slow her breathing, forcing herself to stop hyperventilating. With a trembling hand she rubbed her face and was surprised when her hand came away wet; she hadn't even realized that she was crying, that tears were flowing unheeded down her face. She bit down on her lip to keep from sobbing out loud, the pain snapping her back to the present, and resumed her actions, sweeping the cool, damp cloth over his feverish skin. She was terrified, the panic was like a steady ache in her very bones, but she would not give into it again; to let it freeze her.

No, she may not be able to control her fear, but she could control her reaction to it. And this time she would not let it dictate her actions …or make her run.

He made a fretful sound in his sleep and twisted his body in pain, as if seeking a more comfortable position, half turning onto his side. She poured more water on the cloth and ran it down his side, pausing when she came to the scar on his back. With her fingertips, she gently traced the ridges of that scar, no longer red and angry like it was when she had last seen it. How that must have hurt him, she thought to herself, but even with her clumsy suturing attempts and no local anaesthesia, he never once cried out. It seemed as though only when unconscious would he give into that. A small frown puckered her brows as a thought occurred to her; she wondered what type of pain he had grown up with to enable him to be able bite down so hard on it. She knew from her own experience that that kind of willpower only came from brutal emotional training.

"Oh Jack," she said on a breathy sigh, "who are you really?" With a gentle touch she gave the scar one last wistful and compassionate caress before resuming the sponge bath.

Finding the bottle nearly empty, she pushed herself up and went to the mouth of the cave and refilled it with rainwater. Tired and hungry, her motions were mechanical and weary. Looking out of the cave, she noticed that the rain was finally beginning to lessen and would likely stop soon. Returning to Jack, she tried to be optimistic, but her fear and despair seemed to overwhelm anything and everything else.

He had tossed and turned again, and was once more lying on his back. His skin was still hot, but for the first time, she thought perhaps it wasn't quite _as_ hot, and that the cold compresses seemed to be easing the fever a bit. Clinging to that shred of hope, she continued to wipe him down with the damp cloth, while her mind drifted away.

"Kate."

Jerked out of her reverie by the sound of his voice, she met his eyes and gave him a shaky smile.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you talk in your sleep?" she teased, trying to cover her fear.

His chuckle was cut short by a fit of coughing, and she grimaced at the raw harshness of it. She automatically slid her arm under his shoulders to help him to sit up a bit and passed him the bottle of water, determined for him to drink some. When he tried to drink it too quickly, she pulled the bottle away from him and cautioned him to just take sips.

Turning his head he looked at her and frowned in concern.

"You're crying …" he said, worry colouring his voice, and reached up to wipe a smudge of mud off her cheek.

She tried to force a smile and an excuse, but gave up. He always knew when she was lying … at first she had found it unsettling how her weapons and manipulations failed to work on him, and how easily he read her … saw her. But now, she felt comfort in that, knowing that there was nothing to hide from him. So she answered with the truth, self-reproach and shame weighing her words down.

"I'm scared," she said simply, "I don't know what to do, how to help you."

He was silent for a moment, but his expressive hazel eyes swam with emotion. "You didn't run, though, or let it take over. Don't underestimate how brave you are."

"Brave?" she snorted with a rueful and watery chuckle. "No I'm not. I did run, Jack. I ran and left you."

He licked at his dry lips before responding. "But you are here now. You came back; you didn't keep running. Being brave has nothing to do with being fearless, Kate. Courage and bravery are what happen when you do what needs to be done, even when you are terrified."

She bit her lip as fresh tears swam in her eyes. She cursed herself;when had she ever been this emotional and prone to crying she thought with chagrin. Unable to find the words to express just how much what he'd said meant to her, she met his steady gaze with her own, and smiled soft and slow – a smile he hadn't seen from her in quite a while. Without even being aware of it, he answered with one of his own.

She passed him the water bottle again, but as he took a drink, his hand, still weak from the muscle and joint pains, shook and spilled water down his chest. He looked down in confusion.

"I'm just in my boxers. Why am I just in my boxers, Kate?" He said with such utter bewilderment, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Seeming to misunderstand her silence, he shot her a worried look and choked out " ...uh, we didn't, do anything, did we?"

Swallowing the bubble of laughter in her throat, she kept a straight face and deadpanned, "Jack, we made mad, passionate love after finishing off the sake … don't you remember?" she said with a wounded look that would have made her high school drama teacher proud.

When his eyes widened in shock, she took pity on him and let a small chuckle escape. "No, Jack. Nothing happened. You were shivering in your wet clothes, so I had to take them off you."

"Oh … okay … and then how did you end up wearing my shirt?"

Kate looked down and unconsciously smoothed her hand down the worn cotton. "Well, then I got soaked and the only dry shirt by then, was yours."

He nodded in comprehension, but as she passed him back the bottle, she couldn't resist one last shot.

"And Jack? Trust me, you'd know if we 'did anything'," she said, using his words from the day she had teased him about checking her out.

Catching the mischief in her eyes, he felt the corners of his mouth turn up, relieved that he had been able to distract her from her fears, if only briefly. And despite himself, and the situation they were in, he found himself intrigued by her comment.

His energy having quickly faded, he fought to keep his eyes open a little longer. Kate shifted and eased him back down, and he instantly regretted the loss of her arm around him, and the soft swell of her breast against his arm.

She could see him rapidly slipping towards sleep again, and quickly seized the opportunity to get medical direction from him while he was still lucid.

"Wait, Jack … stay with me a bit longer … I need your help. I don't know what I'm supposed to do for you."

He blinked his eyes against the sleep calling him, and focused on her face.

"How long have I been out?"

"Almost four days," she replied.

_Four days_? He thought to himself. _He'd been sick and unconscious for four days? He'd abandoned Kate for four days, and worse yet, given her cause for concern._ His lips thinned in reproach of himself, though deep down, he knew it wasn't anything he'd done intentionally. That didn't stop him from feeling guilty, though.

"If I've had a high fever for four days and I'm still alive, then I guess what you're doing is working. This, whatever it is, just has to run its course."

"What about the pain you keep having? Isn't there anything for that?" she asked as she passed him a piece of fruit she'd scavenged from the storm's debris.

He swallowed the fruit and shook his head. "Basically, lots of water … heat for chills and cool for fever …" His voice trailed off as he felt himself sinking back into sleep. As his mind began to drift off and his eyes fluttered shut, he dimly realized how much he liked the idea of Kate wearing his shirt, an island equivalent to her wearing his letterman's jacket, he thought wryly. He smiled inwardly at the foolish thought, but as he slipped into sleep with the taste of the guava they'd shared on his tongue, his mind lingered on the thought that this must be what her mouth would taste like, right now …


	13. Bitter Nobility

"Bitter Nobility"

Sawyer swore as another branch slapped him in the face with all the sass of an offended woman. Spitting out bits of leaves, he ripped the branch away and scowled at it. It seemed like every damn branch on the God damned island had it out for him. If it wasn't the pigs from Hell hounding him, it was every biting bug and it's in-laws attacking him.

"Well, that's what you get for trying to help, you damn fool," he muttered to himself. He should have just stayed at his ocean-side castle and let the do-good busy bodies play scavenger hunt. But noooo, he had to suddenly decide to be helpful. And what had it gotten him? A mouthful of leaves and a face full of scratches.

Maybe, if it hadn't been Freckles that up and went missing, he'd have been able to quash the flippin' nobility that had slithered up to the surface. But Hell, the girl just plum got under his skin. 'Course the fact that both she and Jackass were missing and last seen together set his teeth on edge. He was certain that the doc was responsible for all this.

Comfortable with this new target for his frustrations, he bared his teeth in a feral sneer and fantasized about the Boy Scout having been stung by bees in all manner of private places. His dimples flashed at the thought but the smile was quickly erased when another branch seemingly appeared from out of nowhere and smashed across his face, draping his head in a sticky spider web.

"Damnit!" he swore passionately and clawed at the offending web, certain he could feel the skitter of insect legs across his nose and into his left ear.

"Son of a bitch! What, even the trees are defending him now!" He pulled at his ear and shook his head, visions of spiders laying eggs in his ear, making his skin crawl.

He kicked at a rock in the path in front of him and wondered for the thousandth time why he put himself through this. What, did he think he'd be getting brownie points or somethin'?

He emerged from the canopy of trees and took a swig from his water bottle. Wiping his hand across his sweaty forehead, he looked at the ground carefully.

"Well, what the Hell are you expecting to find? A frickin' 'Kate was here' billboard?" he snorted at his own foolishness, pushing away the discomfort he felt at being useless.

The ground began to slope upwards and he navigated the muddy ground carefully, using the boulders for support. He had only gone on for about 10 minutes when he decided to give up and head back to the beach. He turned around and was just starting to shimmy back down the hill when he caught a whiff of smoke. He froze as the significance of that scent hit him. He looked left and right, trying to find the source of the smoke. Where there's smoke, there's Kate, he figured.

"Hey! Kate!" he hollered, the sudden yell startling a bird from its drowsy perch above. Any response was drowned out by the raucous noise of the bird.

He looked around, more slowly this time, but still almost didn't see the gap in the hillside. At first it appeared to be nothing more than a deep shadow along the cliff wall, but after getting another whiff of smoke, he knew it wasn't.

He scrambled over the rocks and roots that formed the obstacle course of vegetation, and was about to enter the cave, when caution took over. _Yeah, real smart, boy_, he thought to himself, _let's go skippin' into the dark cave on Hell's Acre Island with nothin' but a smile_. He quickly scanned the surrounding area for some kind of weapon, wishing like Hell he hadn't given the gun back to Dr. Know. Seeing a good sized branch, he grabbed it and tested the weight. Satisfied with its size, he plunged into the cave, the tree limb grasped firmly in both hands. After the brightness outside, the cave's semi-darkness was disorienting.

"Hey! You in here Freckles?" he called out and winced as the sound rang hollowly against the walls.

His eyes finally adjusting to the dim light, he could make out the smouldering remains of the fire … producing more smoke than heat or light. Squinting to see in the murky light of the cave, he felt his stomach drop when he saw the two figures lying motionless on the ground.

"Damnit!" He was too late, he thought, blaming himself for their deaths. If only he'd found them sooner … in time, he thought with self-contempt… But when he moved closer he could see the gentle rise and fall of Kate's back and felt a surge of relief. As his mind finally processed the scene in front of him though, the feeling quickly turned to bitter resentment.

_Sure, _he thought_, while the rest of us have been worrying and combing the island, Freckles and Dr. Quinn here have been shacked up in their own little honeymoon suite at the Cave Inn._

Momentarily giving into the surge of jealousy, he stood over their entwined bodies and scowled. His face hardened and all traces of relief vanished as he stared at the sight of Kate, in Doc's shirt no less, snuggled up to Jack's naked chest, like they were Adam and Goddamn Eve.

Torn between anger and hurt, he grabbed on tightly to the anger … by far the safer of the two emotions. Why in the hell should he feel hurt anyway, he thought tersely, it wasn't like he had any claim on her anyway, like there was anything going on between them. Refusing to give into the inexplicable and unwanted sense of betrayal, he squashed the little voice inside that reminded him that she was the closest thing he had to a friend on this god forsaken island … that she was the only one who made an effort to understand him. But that was where it ended, after all … did he really expect her to choose a smartass conman over the goddamn doctor and his perfect little life of privilege? No, that was a just a messy pig's wallow of feelings he'd rather not acknowledge even existed, let alone probe.

So he slipped into the welcoming stability of anger and resentment, walls he never let get too far out of reach, and focused on the anger of finding them playing house while everyone else was panicking … hell, the way the others had been carrying on, you'd think the friggin' sun had been stolen from the sky. Well, he sure as hell wasn't going to waste anymore of his time on these two … he'd tell the others where they were and let them deal with these two.

He turned and headed for the mouth of the cave, when his foot connected with something on the floor, sending the solid object rolling nosily across the uneven ground. What the hell? he thought with a scowl. He stooped to pick it up and heard a sudden movement behind him.

"Who …? Sa ..Sawyer?" the groggy voice called out.

"Well now," he said, turning to face Kate, "having yourselves a fine ol' party?" he sneered, waggling the empty Sake bottle. "Golly, I sure as hell hate to interrupt your little love-in here, but in case you'd forgotten, there's 40 other folks on this island and most of them are out looking for you." He flicked a gaze at the remainder of their clothes draped across a rock, then back at her. "You and lover boy better get dressed … wouldn't want your reputations to get compromised, now would you?" he bit off scathingly before ducking out of the cave and storming off down the path.

Realizing that he was still carrying the tree branch, he angrily threw it into the bushes. So much for saving the day, he thought with disgust … a bitter outcast with a twig as a weapon.

He hadn't gone more than a few yards when he heard the sound of someone running after him. "Sawyer! Sawyer, wait!"

Against his better judgement, he stopped and turned to face her. She slid to a halt, her bare feet slipping on a patch of mud, her hair a tangled mass rioting across her shoulders … shoulders still wearing Jackass's shirt.

"I don't do room service, Freckles … if you're wanting breakfast in bed you'll have to find it yourself."

She scowled in confusion, as her sleepy mind tried the make sense of what he was snarking about. Shaking her head in bafflement, she ignored his sneer. "Jack is sick … really sick … he's been in and out of consciousness for the last few days and I couldn't get him back by myself… he's had some kind of fever …he was unconscious for four days …" she stopped herself, realizing that she was rambling on.

"Whoa … slow down .. you're not making a lick of sense," he said, trying to follow her jumbled sentences. It wasn't what she had said that had him confused … it was the way she had said it. He'd never seen her so frantic before … he'd never seen her scared like this, and make no mistake, she was scared now … he tried to ignore the obvious fact that she was scared for Jack.

He watched her take a deep breath and pause, as if she were counting to herself. Having gained some control over her emotions, she fisted her hands at her sides and said simply, "I need your help. I need your help to get us back to the caves."

"Caves?" he asked redundantly, feeling awkward and unsettled, as if he'd stumbled into a role he didn't quite know how to play … a role he'd long since stopped believing he was even capable of.

"The caves … he needs Sun … she'll know what to do," she said, a hint of desperation edging into her words momentarily. She swallowed hard, saying "he almost died. Sun will know what to do." Turning on her heel, she darted back to the cave without a backward glance, expecting him to follow.

Part of him was annoyed that she assumed he'd trail after her like a well trained mutt. But part of him, the part that he tried to ignore, was humbled by the trust she was putting in him … her belief that he could, and would, help. Maybe, that voice deep inside whispered, just maybe, there was something left inside him that was worth saving …


End file.
